you have me do? Seek for the patronage of some great man and like a
creeping vine on a tall tree, crawl upward where I cannot stand alone?
No thank you! Be a buffoon in the vile hope of teasing out a smile on
some cold face? No thank you! Eat a toad for breakfast each morning?
Make my knees callous? Cultivate a supple spine? Wear out my belly
groveling in the dust? No thank you! With my left hand, scratch the back
of any swine that roots up gold for me, while my right, too proud to
know his partner's business, takes in the fee? No thank you! Shall I use
the fire God gave me, to burn incense all day long? No, thank you!
Struggle to insinuate my name into the columns of the Gazette?
Calculate, scheme, be afraid? Love more to make a visit than a poem?
Seek introductions, favors, influences? No, thank you! No, I thank you
and again, I thank you! But to sing, to laugh to dream To walk in my own
way, free, with an eye to see things as they are. A voice that means
manhood. To cock my hat where I choose. At a word... a yes, a no. To
fight, or write... but never to make a line I have not heard in my own
heart. To travel any road under the sun, under the stars. Nor care if
fame or fortune lie beyond the bourne. Yet, with all modesty to say, my
soul be satisfied with flowers, with weeds, with thorns, even... but
gather them in the one garden you may call your own.